Winter's Night
by Icemera
Summary: On Christmas night, Shizuru journeyed home to confront Natsuki, to fix or to end their crumbling relationship.


**Summary:** On the Christmas night, Shizuru journeyed home to confront Natsuki, to fix or to end their crumbling relationship.

**Note:** Not edited. Beta is very busy. In fact, she got a chapter for my other fic two weeks ago and disappeared, possibly kidnapped by Santa Claus.So feel free to point out the mistakes you'll see below. Thanks in advance for any review cookie. Yuuuuuuum. Merry Christmas to you all and have a happy new year!

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**WINTER'S NIGHT**

"What's her name…?"

There was no reply.

Natsuki didn't say a word, leaving the question Shizuru had been asking for the past two months hanging in the air. After all the arguments and unintended blames, Natsuki grew tired of their verbal insults and at last found no reason if Shizuru had a right to ask at all. But, as time progressed, silence ate her heart out even more so than those mean words they threw at each other.

Head hanging low in exhaustion, Shizuru flipped her mobile closed for the fifth time since the plane landed an hour ago.

Occupying a seat in the baggage claim area of Narita International Airport, she watched hundreds of passengers from several different flights moving about, her black suitcase situated on the floor to her left. Some people looked happy to be home, whilst others anxious and rushed, having schedules to follow. A few gave her a curious look as to why a young and attractive woman like her looked as though she'd just been robbed of daylight—lost in Narita. Her usually luminous eyes were rendered dull and her face was considerably pale.

Eyes sore and reddened from lack of sleep, Shizuru had to give herself a sarcastic smile. She was indeed 'lost'. Like everyone else, she, too, had a place she needed to be. It was why she came back from the States after separating from Natsuki. The separation looked to be permanent and, in all honesty, she just couldn't bring herself to move from the goddamn bench. Not even to go to the public restroom. For the hundredth time since she sat down, she took a quick look at her wristwatch, noting the time and a dinner she hungered for.

She forewent every meal on the plane. Her appetite was as punctual and healthy as always, but her mind stubbornly refused to enjoy anything she put in her mouth. In the period of two months, she had lost about 5 kilograms without trying, or a need to. She didn't like to see herself in the mirror at all.

_Ring! Ring! Ring!_

Out of obsessive compulsive behavior, Shizuru dialed up Natsuki's number again. It hadn't been ten minutes since they hung up on each other.

Out of silent contempt and annoyance, Natsuki answered the phone, but without any word of acknowledgement. They had passed the phrase of being nice to each other now, and they suspected if they had already passed the point to forgive.

"What's her name…?" Shizuru murmured, her gaze hollow as pain began to grip her numbed heart. "Why can't you just… Just fucking tell me, Natsuki…"

Shizuru was less than certain that her voice was still calm. In the midst of loud chattering, she could have been shouting even. The worst was that she wasn't sure if she still had the will to pretend through this night. It was late, and she should be getting back to get her possessions Natsuki already packed into boxes. From the position of being a victim in the downfall of their relationship, she was now being kicked out of their two-storey, suburban house, which they bought less than a year ago.

No answer.

Eyes wide in absolute terror, Shizuru reminded herself to slowly breathe in and out to calm down before putting the mobile back into the pocket of her black coat. Defeated, she discreetly rubbed her tired face, careful not to let others notice how shaken her hand was.

Maybe it was better not to know after all. Maybe Natsuki was doing her a favor, letting her walk away without anything left behind—without a name to haunt her for the rest of her life.

Eventually, Shizuru picked up her suitcase and exited the terminal to call a cab. On this cold winter night, she would catch Shinkansen back to Fuuka, take her things and walk out the door of her dream. Tonight felt longer than she had anticipated.

At precisely 9:13 P.M., she boarded the bullet train, heading back to the place she'd call 'home' one last time. To make matters worse, passengers next to her were a grandmother, who smoked like a chimney, and her eight-year-old grandson, who was equipped with two Transformers toys, and kept shouting endlessly of the cool phrases he remembered from the movie.

Inwardly sighing, Shizuru leaned her head towards the window, timidly rubbing her right temple as not to display her discomfort brought by the noise. Her headache made its rapid ascend into a migraine. After a few moments of self-restraint, she lost the will to suppress the pain and quickly grabbed a bottle of painkiller from her purse.

Two pills sat idly on her palm now, but she suddenly hesitated, scrutinizing each of the white tablets as the hammering in her head continued.

'What do you think about herbal medicine? I hate seeing you with those pills every time you work overnight.' Natsuki once commented over a dinner in their old apartment, waving the chopsticks with enthusiasm at the brilliant idea popping in her head.

'It could very well happen in the morning, too, Natsuki. And it'll take acupuncture to help it.'

Shizuru still recalled very accurately of everything about that night or the months and years before that. How lively Natsuki's laugh sounded, and how the younger woman forsook the sushi and crawled to the other side of the low table to give her shoulders a good massage. How good it used to feel when she had Natsuki in her arms.

Without further recollection of the old days, Shizuru took one glance at the boy with toys and swallowed the pills fast. She'd learned to take them without water now, though she readily bought a bottle of cold green tea to soothe her crying stomach.

After getting off from Shinkansen, the bus took around an hour and a half to reach Fuuka at slightly before 2 A.M. A faster way would be by ferry, but it was what she wanted. She picked the international flight to fit the schedule for the last Shinkansen and bus available of the day. She planned to come back as late as possible, better to be sure that Natsuki would already be asleep by then.

A little later than scheduled, Shizuru found herself once again in the familiar street of downtown Fuuka with the light suitcase in her hand. It had been only two months, but she already felt like a stranger lost in a parallel universe, where she knew the paths like the back of her hand, but afraid to take another step because the people she once knew were not the same anymore.

Having just come out of the bus station, Shizuru looked to her left, and then to her right, noting how quiet it was during this time of night. Fuuka had grown fairly rapidly in the past ten years, and she was accustomed to its busy streets and the increase of inhabitants.

But tonight was different.

It was of the lonely season for lonely people. Many retired to their homes early to celebrate the holiday with their families. Both sides of the pavements of the four-lane, two-way street were empty. Only some fresh and old footprints in the thick snow and big, empty buildings were left cold under the yellow streetlights.

Pulling the collar closer to keep warm, Shizuru began her walk down the lane. Her knuckles reddened from the frosty air, but she couldn't quite remember where she had kept her gloves. Striding a little further, she caught the tune of 'Silent Night' playing faintly from the speakers of the shopping mall a block ahead. Closer and closer, she let the melody kept her company, a smile gracing her face for the first time in months. She even let herself enjoying the soft snow falling upon her and spun herself around and around according to the rhythm of music. On this empty street, she had no one beside her, so she might as well befriend with the imminent solitude. On this forlorn night, she imagined herself a princess of a heavenly castle, who was able to love and be loved.

"Merry Christmas, Miss."

At the stranger's voice, Shizuru skidded to a halt and turned to see a woman in her early sixties. She didn't realize that she was being watched. The old woman was dressed in a blue uniform with an orange vest, a big broom in her grip.

"Uh… Yes, Merry Christmas," Shizuru said, nodding a little.

The old woman continued to clean the street. "What a beautiful, young lady like you doing in the middle of the street alone at night? Shouldn't you be with your family now?"

"I… I'm heading home… But I'd like to grab something to eat first. I totally forgot that restaurants should be closed by now, especially on this holiday." Shizuru shook her head to herself, amused by her own oversight.

The cleaning woman chortled in agreement. She looked up at Shizuru and then paused for a moment, a recognition appearing in her gaze. "Do I know you? Have we met before?"

Shizuru mildly shrugged. "Hmm. I don't think so."

Stopping her task completely, the old woman studied Shizuru with inquisitive eyes. "Oh, I remember now! I used to work for you several years ago. I was your cleaning lady." She spent a second to think and then burst out in victory. "You are Fujino-san!"

Shizuru raised her brows in surprise, trying to recall the old woman's name.

The cleaning lady smiled knowingly. "It's Akiko, Fujino-san. It's a pleasant surprise to see you again. How have you been doing?"

Luckily, it only took Shizuru a short moment to recall Akiko, one of many cleaning ladies she had had in the past. Though Akiko was much older than last time Shizuru saw her, the woman still appeared healthy and, most of all, merrier than Shizuru had been.

Akiko offered to take her former boss back to her flat, promising a treat of ramen. Although Shizuru refused at first, not wanting to bother Akiko and her husband this late at night, Akiko insisted that they needed very little sleep. The older people got, the less they needed to eat and sleep. Perhaps, the bodies instinctively knew that their time was running out. Shizuru, however, already felt old and worn out.

Deeper into the quiet neighborhood, Shizuru followed Akiko along the narrow alleyway, taking a left turn around the corner and reaching the flat. They had been walking for half an hour and Shizuru was already panting by the time she reached the third floor, the suitcase suddenly feeling very heavy.

Inserting the key into the lock, Akiko turned to smile at the young woman. "I know your work must be very busy, but you should exercise more often, Fujino-san. Take good care of your health and you'll live longer."

Straightened herself up, Shizuru only offered a polite smile back. She had no intention to live that long. There was no point to live for a hundred years, but alone.

Entering her humble room, Akiko shook her head as if she had read Shizuru's mind. "Oh, Fujino-san, please smile like this is the best winter in your life."

Unable to stand any more of the winter air, Shizuru followed Akiko fast into the flat and closed the door behind her. She put the suitcase and left her shoes by the door, rubbing her hands together. Akiko turned on the lamp in the tiny living room, revealing how untidy her place was. A few big boxes were piled up against one corner of the room, taking up almost one third of the space. A small low table situated in another corner, right next to a 19-inch TV. A shelf stood just a bit to the left of the row of windows, harboring all sorts of IT books and DVDs Shizuru didn't expect Akiko or her husband would care to possess.

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience, Fujino-san. My daughter would come and pick them up very soon. 'Soon'. She said that three years ago, but we never heard from her again," Akiko mumbled to herself, moving into the kitchen to prepare some food for the guest.

"Ah, who is this, Akiko?"

Shizuru turned to meet an old man, presumably Akiko's husband. She quickly introduced herself, helped by Akiko's additional information of their brief past. She was even amused by Akiko's version of the stories. She didn't realize how aloof and indifferent, or carefree and lively, all at once, she had appeared to others.

"And on one of those rare days, I'd go to work and you'd wake up to a very vibrant self, Fujino-san. You were very kind," Akiko said with a grin, carrying a tray out of the kitchen and putting a bowl of ramen on the low table in front of Shizuru.

"Thank you very much, Akiko-san." Shizuru kept her gaze down, hands on her lap. She didn't know if she had thanked the old woman for the ramen or the compliment she much needed.

After all the fights with Natsuki, Shizuru spent days and nights reflecting, and had come to believe that she was the reason of their separation—that she was indeed a terrible person as she had always been and would always be. She could not love as she claimed or wanted to. She could not be loved now because Natsuki had given up on 'them'. She was now just a ghost of the image of perfection once projected to the world.

Shizuru still had her professional smile on her face, although she had already lost her appetite, trying to be polite to the old couple. All the while, Akiko and her husband joined at the table, a cup of hot green tea in their hands as they each took turn to tell the story of their weathered lives.

With full attention, Shizuru listened, studying the deep lines on their beaming faces that seemed to map out the rough routes through life. From what she had gathered, their lives were anything but easy and pleasant. Yet, they stuck together through thick and thin, something rare of young couples nowadays.

Shizuru herself was a perfect example of a failed romance. A relationship full of promises and dreams that entirely collapsed when she fled from the truth and responsibilities that ensued. She tried, didn't she? She tried to be a better person, but in the end, she just couldn't see it in herself. Even when she was traveling around the world the past two months, she couldn't seem to escape far enough. It was only right that Natsuki deserted her now.

"Who are you?"

Shizuru and the old couple turned to where the small voice came from. A five-year-old boy stood by the narrow, dim corridor. He had just come out of the only small bedroom available in this flat, rubbing his eyes. The chats in the living room must have stirred him from his sleep.

Akiko waved for the boy. "Come here, Tatsuya-kun. This young lady is—"

"A Santa Claus? But where is her beard?" The boy sprinted to hug Akiko from behind, staring at Shizuru.

The adults laughed softly at the child's reaction. Shizuru politely nodded to Akiko and her husband, thanking them for the food she forced herself to finish. Hours had passed by so quickly, and the bowl was already cold.

Shizuru then turned to the boy and winked. "Ara, I don't have beard as you can see, but I've got you a present."

Akiko and her husband glanced at each other, perplexed at Shizuru's impromptu trick.

Shizuru's eyes widened a little as her mind tried to come up with a continuation of her promise. She then moved towards the door and opened up her suitcase, shuffling for something to present to the boy. Fortunately, she had gotten a brand-new blanket, still wrapped in the fancy plastic bag.

"Santa was in a hurry. He didn't have time to wrap it. But he stressed that I'd deliver it to you."

Tatsuya didn't waste anytime, making use of the new, wool blanket at once. Though the blanket was rather small for a boy his height, he was ecstatic enough to get anything tonight. Akiko's husband furiously nodded to Shizuru in grateful gesture and urged the boy to go back to sleep.

Akiko only sat unmoving as she was clueless of how to respond. "We—Fujino-san—"

"Please. The ramen was very good. I should get going anyway. It's very late—quite early in the morning now." Shizuru glanced at her wristwatch, trying not to strike up further conversation concerning Tatsuya. Akiko didn't have to say it outright, but it wasn't hard to guess that the boy was abandoned by his mother, left in care of his grandparents, who couldn't afford to get him a present.

Quietly, Shizuru made her way out into the dark, empty street again. With her stomach full, she felt a little more energized, and she had found her gloves again while fumbling for the blanket in the suitcase. Her body felt warm enough, but still cold and bitter inside. Natsuki used to be the only remedy to all her weaknesses and pain, but it was probably time to let go.

Willing to face it tonight, Shizuru left the plans for detours from her mind and finally headed home.

In front of the two-storey, brick house, Shizuru stood for a long moment, observing the row of metallic fence, the tiny lawn, and the graveled path that led to the wooden door. As expected, all lights in the house were off. It should be as it was nearly dawn. She would take her belongings and leave before Natsuki wake up.

Taking in a long, deep breath, Shizuru walked along the path and entered as quietly as possible.

The first floor was dark. Only small, foggy rays of bluish-gray light managed to slip in between the curtains into the lush living room to her left. Closing the door, Shizuru was very cautious of her steps on the wooden floor. She would have it decorated in modern style to accommodate many guests and possibly to host parties. She would have a much grander house if not because of Natsuki's sense of 'home'.

As Natsuki matured over time, she gradually developed into an opposite identity to Shizuru. She learned to cherish life and harbored hopes and dreams as Shizuru went along but lost all the ideals she used to follow without realizing it.

Natsuki loved to get her lover some flowers on just about any given day that she felt like it. She never forgot to get rare souvenirs from the trips Shizuru couldn't make it with her, while Shizuru bought her luxurious gifts like a car or a house. The more impressive the present was, the more secure Shizuru felt, and though Natsuki could sense it, she pushed and pushed them both, trying but failed to bridge the gap between them.

When all else failed, even a grand promise was expendable when Shizuru had not the heart to keep up with it. After all, courage and faith just could not be bought.

Shizuru put her suitcase by the door and proceeded to the second floor, assuming Natsuki had put the boxes upstairs. Friends had been worried, knowing of the troubles in their relationship that seemed to grow fiercer by day, and having them see the packed boxes would send them off the edge. To the others, the separation was still seen as temporary and somewhat hopeful of the reunion.

Vigilantly, Shizuru moved past the home-sized library, surveying the rows of wooden shelves behind a large oak table in the middle of the room. Her computer was still there along with the stereos. The library was turned into her personal home office, where she'd read and work on matters whenever she needed privacy. Natsuki had her own 'home office' in the backyard. The plants were her books and the plane of black sand was her undiscovered world.

The room next to the library was one of the two smaller bedrooms, normally arranged for guests. But Shizuru had made it her own bedroom for a while before deciding to leave for the States. Things had gone from bad to worst, and for the first time, she was relieved to sleep without her love by her side. The need to escape entirely only escalated later on.

Passing the two guest rooms, Shizuru at last stopped in front of the main bedroom she once shared with Natsuki. She closed her eyes and imagined what it used to feel like back then when she was still able to kiss Natsuki goodnight and wake up by her side. She opened her eyes and slightly pushed the door open, wanting to know if she still had the chance to be loved again.

In the stillness of time, Shizuru leaned by the doorframe, watching the dark-haired one resting on the bed. Natsuki's face was illuminated by the soft light coming through the window. Natsuki must have forgotten to bring the curtains down, a habit whenever she was waiting for Shizuru to come back from long trips. But Shizuru was too afraid now to even toy with the idea of Natsuki still waiting for her.

Moving closer to the bed, Shizuru breathed in and out, careful not to make any sound to disturb the sleeping form. Natsuki looked frail and tired, and she should be since she had just gotten out of the hospital a few days ago.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Shizuru turned the other way, squeezing her eyes shut as she inwardly screamed at her own cowardliness. For the past year, she had lost it. She didn't know what made her react the way she did, or who to blame for it. In fact, she wasn't quite sure if she really ever knew herself at all. Her brave, smiling mask only cracked, and she lashed out when forced to face the truth.

"Hey, there… You're late again…"

At the dazed greeting, Shizuru didn't turn to look. Not even when Natsuki placed a hand on the back of hers. She didn't want to move, fearing that Natsuki's tender voice was only her hallucination.

Natsuki shifted in her position, groaning a little. Her hand unknowingly tightened the grip on Shizuru's.

Her blood running cold, Shizuru swallowed hard as she turned, her heart skipping a beat. And when their eyes met, they both stopped, their minds racing in silence. When was the last time they really looked into each other's eyes when they spoke or fought? How far they had to run away to find each other?

"Where are my things?" Shizuru quietly asked. As far as she could see, Natsuki probably hadn't finished packing. She could leave everything to Natsuki and wish the woman a better, new life. But she didn't have the heart to confess that the main reason to bring up the question—to come back here—was to see Natsuki again.

Oddly, Shizuru was thrilled to catch Natsuki's heartbreaking gaze. Their pain and pleasure always came together in a twisted way, and somehow they learned to live with it.

Natsuki watched the taller woman for a moment before lifting her hand to the pale face above hers. But she stopped just before she would touch Shizuru, hesitant as if they had only first met.

"Where's my…" Shizuru muttered, her words trailing off as tears welling up in her throat. Gradually, she turned and got up from the bed. And then she saw it. The blue cradle she bought a year ago stood in the deep shadow in the corner of the room where sunlight couldn't reach.

With all her strength, Shizuru moved towards the cradle and took a long time before lifting the baby up. Her gaze never leaving the tiny face, she moved towards the window, hoping to get a clearer view of the precious life in her hands.

Under the faint light, Shizuru studied the baby's long lashes fluttering lightly. The brief moment their gazes met, she only then realized how terribly shaken she was to stand here, holding the life they created—to be here to fulfill the promise she once gave Natsuki.

"She's got your eyes…"

At Natsuki's whisper, Shizuru looked up. "What's her name…?"

Natsuki looked saddened as she said, "I'm still waiting for you to name her."

Shizuru tried to still her body as tears eventually found their way out. It frightened her that Natsuki still saw beauty in all her flaws when she had failed to believe in herself. She was more than overwhelmed by the gentleness in Natsuki's eyes, the forgiveness she didn't deserve. She found no word of apology or assurance worthy enough to erase all the things they both went through.

Just a little higher, Shizuru raised the small form to receive the soft sunlight. And she made a silent vow to herself. She'd make their every winter full of sunlight.

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**The End**


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